In Merry But he said he was sick, and a king should know, They did not cure him. He cut off their heads, And sent to the schools for more. At last two famous doctors came,. And one was as poor as a rat,— The other had never looked in a book; Together they looked at the royal tongue, In succession they thumped his august chest, The old Sage said, "You're as sound as a nut." The other leech grew a shade pale; But he pensively rubbed his sagacious nose, The king will be well, if he sleeps one night In Merry Mood Wide o'er the realm the couriers rode, And fast their horses ran, And many they saw, and to many they spoke, But they found no Happy Man. They found poor men who would fain be rich, At last they came to a village gate, A beggar lay whistling there; He whistled, and sang, and laughed, and rolled The weary couriers paused and looked 66 And one of them said, “ Heaven save you, friend! "O yes, fair Sirs," the rascal laughed, And his voice rang free and glad; "An idle man has so much to do 66 That he never has time to be sad." This is our man," the courier said; I will give you a hundred ducats, friend, The merry blackguard lay back on the grass, 1 In Merry" I would do it, God wot," and he roared with the Mood fun, "But I haven't a shirt to my back." Each day to the king the reports came in And the sad panorama of human woes And he grew ashamed of his useless life, And out he went in the world, and toiled In his own appointed way; And the people blessed him, the land was glad, JOHN HAY. Made in the Hot Weather Fountains that frisk and sprinkle Pools that the breezes crinkle; The wheel beside the mill, With its wet, weedy frill; Wind-shadows in the wheat: A water-cart in the street; The fringe of foam that girds A green sky's minor thirds- Of ice and glass the tinkle, Peaches without a wrinkle; A melon's dripping sherds; Vale-lily and periwinkle; The muzzles of drinking herds; The chirp of rain-bound birds- In Merry Mood In Merry ENVOY Dark aisles, new packs of cards, White marbles, whiter words— WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY. The Housekeeper The frugal snail, with forecast of repose, And his sole riches. Wheresoe'er he roam, Knock when you will,-he's sure to be at home. |